


A Life Without Pain

by d-ama-ien (ama_janee)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Murder, Murder-Suicide, Other, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 14:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17830109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama_janee/pseuds/d-ama-ien
Summary: Finding her wedding ring felt like a stab in the gut- just a simple note that read “goodbye” and her golden band set on top of it. Something had been wrong for months- Celine wouldn’t come home some nights, William started borrowing money more than ever before, they both acted strangely when together.And then they both disappeared, at the same time.Mark chased alcohol, and then death, and found himself consumed by revenge and twisted into something unrecognizable.





	A Life Without Pain

**Author's Note:**

> This has multiple graphic themes including alcoholism, suicide, and murder. These can be triggering topics so please proceed with caution, and know what you’re getting into.

Finding her wedding ring felt like a stab in the gut- just a simple note that read “goodbye” and her golden band set on top of it. Something had been wrong for months- Celine wouldn’t come home some nights, William started borrowing money more than ever before, they both acted strangely when together. Mark refused to be suspicious, it was his wife and his best friend after all. He and Will were like brothers, they grew up together. And he had loved Celine since they first met, they had been dating since they were teenagers. He trusted them.

And then they both disappeared, at the same time.

It hurt, an emotional pain so intense that his body ached. He called Damien first. Damien and Will had been incredibly close the past few years, and Celine was his sister after all. Damien arrived, confused and concerned by Mark’s appearance. He hadn’t known that Will and Celine had left. Apparently, neither bothered to even give him a call. 

They wallowed and drank together, the house staff dutifully bringing them more and more bottles until neither man could even lift their glasses. That night they weren’t ashamed to cry, they let their hurt lie in the open and did their best to comfort. But morning came, and Damien had to leave, and Mark felt worse than before. In fact, he felt a bit angry at Damien. Last night the wallowed in sorrows as if their feelings were equal, and now he leaves to work like nothing happened? His pain didn’t even come close to Mark’s, and that fact pissed Mark off to no end. The butler was ordered to not deliver messages from the man, and to turn him away if he had the nerve to show his face at the manor. 

Mark drank, endlessly, letting nothing but alcohol and anger take up his time. He slowly fired members of the staff, what did he need them for? A chef, butler, and groundskeeper were more than enough to keep the house going, and he chose three men who asked no questions and gave Mark his space. The empty house made things worse- he thought he was hearing things, but there was no one ever around except for him and the small staff. He heard voices, often Celine, William, even Damien, and Abe. He knew they weren’t there, but he was haunted by them. 

And there was his own voice, the one that made him occasionally turn a knife towards himself, the one that made him think it would be easier to end himself. Maybe end the others instead? 

That thought pushed him over the edge, the alcohol and anger and pain all culminating in a knife to his own heart. It felt like the ache of finding Celine’s note all over again. He was faintly aware of the taste of blood, but his conscious was fading too quickly for him to really process it.

His last conscious thought before the darkness pulled him under, was _finally_.

And then he was awake. He shook off the memory like a bad dream- but then he saw the blood and knew it really happened. He had undoubtedly died- you don’t just survive a knife to the heart without medical aid, he was still on his bedroom floor so that certainly wasn’t the case. His hands trembled as he ripped at the blood stained robe, opening it and staring at his bare chest. His skin was smooth, entirely covered in blood, but there was no open wound. Anger filled Mark like a well, he wanted to be done with this shit, he wanted to be dead. Without another thought, he grabbed the knife and stabbed himself again. 

And he was awake once more. He kept going, screaming while ripping his chest open again and again and again. He didn’t know how many times he had done this, but the floor was destroyed with blood, and everything else was slick with the substance. A broken sob left his throat, but he dropped the knife now. _finally done…_ He felt alarmed, it sounded like his own voice, his own thought, but he didn’t think he’d thought that. But it was in his thoughts so he must have.

Mark went about cleaning with haste- he didn’t know how long had passed, and the butler would come to check for him if it had been more than a few days. He meticulously cleaned the mess, pouring enough cleaning substance that he thought the smell would choke him. Stabbing didn’t work, so why would smelling some bleach? He slept then, fitfully, plagued with dreams- ideas. He needed to test some things.

The first thing Mark did when he woke up was swallow the first bottle of pills he found- and he just woke up again. He tried hitting himself, throwing himself down a staircase the staff wouldn’t come by, he only woke up with a crick in his neck. He hung some rope in his room, he came to to find the rope snapped with his still alive body on the floor. He realized that each death added a dull ache of pain, it ran like a current through him. He had been living with pain for months now, what’s a little more in the face of death? He also noticed traces of his injuries- the scars and marks looked like they’d been healed for years, but they were still there. He’d just have to wear something with a higher collar to hide the marks around his neck.

The dreams had told him it was the house that let him do this- there was something ancient in the house, it wanted a form. Mark could use this power to take revenge and to take a form for the house. He knew just the man to use, but he’d need to set some stuff up. 

He drowned himself after giving Benjamin the letters- just to see. He came back with no issues, but his throat felt a bit tighter than before. He wanted out of this broken body, the undercurrent of pain was now like permanent static in his brain. He worked to act normally despite the pain, it was easy since he knew he would escape it all soon. The party was tomorrow, he would get Will’s body for the house, and they would give him something better. He knew it would work, a gunshot was nothing to him now. Each death hurt, but it was nothing. The others would hurt plenty in the coming days.

It was the first time the house has had guests in a long, long time. Hearing the voices of once close friends from the top of the staircase was strange- it was the first time Mark had felt happy since William had stolen Celine from him. He was going to finally make Will feel the pain he had felt. With that thought in his head, he walked down the stairs with a fake smile covering the pain. 

The party was going well. The others were getting sloppy with alcohol, Mark stayed stone cold sober for the first time in as long as he could remember. William, in particular, was getting messy, he seemed to be in a fighting mood. Good, it would be easier to goad him like this. The guests disappear to their rooms slowly, Damien helping the District Attorney to bed after they get punched, Abe going soon after to cool off. Chef had disappeared after finishing all the food, and the butler was focusing his attention on cleaning the kitchen. William was about to go off upstairs, but Mark stopped him by grabbing the other man’s shoulder.

“Will, join me downstairs for old times sake,” He offered with a grin, and William, for some reason, accepted. The two were getting along fine, Mark not touching his glass but William polishing off three of his own. It was then Mark made his move, grabbing William’s revolver from the table. “I have a proposition, _friend_. As a show of good faith, let’s have a round of roulette. We each take one shot at the other, and if we both live then we let bygones be bygones,”

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’ll agree to that,” William snaps, standing and reaching for the gun. Mark pulls the trigger, and an empty click echoes through the room.

“See? I’ve let the past go, old friend, take your shot, and we can move on from our troubles,”

Mark shoves the gun into Will’s hand, guiding him, so the barrel is pressed against his chest. William’s hand trembles, his fingers rests on the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. “Pull the trigger. Either I’m dead, and you’re rid of me, or I’m alive, and we move on, so just _pull the fucking trigger_ ,” 

The gun goes off between them, and pain blossoms through his chest. He watches as Will backs away, looking at his blood splattered hands in shock. He backs into the table, knocking the empty wine bottle to the ground with an earth shattering crash. Mark collapses to the ground and dies again with a smile on his face. 

He doesn’t wake up this time- well, he does, but not in the real world like he usually does. It’s a void, nothing but him and his body. His body? His body lies on the “ground,” but he’s standing, looking down at it. “What the fuck is this?” 

“It’s part of the new plan,” his body replies, the voice distorted and eerie.

“What do you mean, new plan?”

“It doesn’t concern you. When there’s a body available for you, we’ll let you take it. For now, you wait. We’re taking this body back to the house, you’ll have a better one soon enough,”

With that, his body is gone, leaving Mark alone in this endless void. He can’t see or hear anything, has nothing to do except sit and glower at the oppressive emptiness. Suddenly the body is back with him, scaring the shit out of the man. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He demands, flinching when his body turns empty eyes towards him. 

“It’s all going well, we’ll both be out of here soon. Be patient,”

Patience was fine. He could be patient. He’s fought through the pain of death for months for this, what’s some waiting going to do? 

It’s going to drive him up the wall if it takes any longer. By his best guess it’s been almost a full day, and while whatever is inhabiting Mark’s body seems perfectly content, the same cannot be said of Mark. Suddenly the body jerks, grabbing Mark’s attention.

“It’s almost time- the seer is performing a ceremony. I’ll take her body and trap her here- then I’ll drive the soul of her companion out, and you take him.”

“What about my revenge, is William, the man with her?” 

“No, but don’t worry. Your friend will break, I assure you,” The body grins, but suddenly falls slack as whatever was inhabiting it disappears. And seconds later, he’s awake. The body is strikingly similar to his own- he recognizes it as Damien’s. He wasn’t supposed to be apart of this, but then the feeling of having a body free from pain hit Mark, and he forgot his guilt. 

The house had held it’s bargain- and he was free to leave knowing that the others finally knew the suffering he had felt. He was out of the house in an instant, it seemed eager to be rid of him. He heard shouting from inside the house, followed by a gunshot and crash. Mark walked away with a smile on his face, washing his hands of the place and the people and bodies still inside it. 

He would meet his demons soon enough, but for now, he felt no pain.

**Author's Note:**

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